Midnight Purple
by Lithrath
Summary: A certain Mazoku goes in search of nourishment, but gets a kiss instead. One shot. Now with consistent tenses, oh my!


Disclaimer: I do not own any Slayers series or any character from Slayers. The plot is mine, but if this resembles someone else's story too much; e-mail me and I will remove this story.

A/N: No changes made to the actual story; I've simply decided that this story needed a bit of grammatical updating.

**Midnight Purple**

It is night time, the sky a deep, endless purple. The kind that would result if maroon and navy blue were combined. The stars are bright, but still pale compared to the light which emanates from the homes and bars scattered along the street. One lone figure walks down this street with no particular path to follow; just seeming to search for a soul as lost his own. His hair matches the sky and falls to his chin around a pale, squinting face; robed in black he resembles Death's Squire after a great feast.

He rather abruptly quits his meandering and stands very still, glancing all about him, a tangible wave of elation washing over him, 'Where was that feeling coming from?'

Turning he spies a young woman exit a building to his left. She holds a mace over her right shoulder and a sheet of paper in her left. By her side a lantern floats to illuminate the page –so she can read—and her long, blonde hair. In her hair are fastened two bell-like objects, one on each side. She wears a floor length gown fit for a ball; her light, dancing steps communicating an obvious and infectious joy. Death's Squire, on the other hand, finds himself fighting the urge to retch as the bile of joy claws its way up his throat.

A smirk splits his pale face as malevolent thoughts dance behind newly opened purple eyes. 'So, beautiful, you have an uplifting letter, hmm? That's not quite fair.' The bile rises again to be replaced with a roaring hunger. 'I must banish these sickly_ emotions_.'

At this he grins wickedly and lazily pursues the young woman. She walks briskly to a large, cathedral-like building unaware of that she is being stalked. She enters quietly through a side door, her silent shadow slipping in a moment behind her.

The woman walks quickly up the stairs and turns right to the living quarters as the large clock chimes four signalling that it is 11:30 p.m. Death's Squire enters the building and shudders at the positive thoughts of the sleeping people surrounding him, nevertheless he follows her using his abilities to silence his footfalls. As both head down the hallway that also serves as balcony seating during concerts, he decides it is time to announce his presence.

Receding into the shadows he whispers, "Filia…" allowing her name to echo like some ghostly call. The curls around the young woman's face and send a shiver through her spine. Stuffing the letter into an unseen pocket, she searches for the source of her name but does not see Death's Squire in the shadows. With no physical evidence to assuage or encourage her growing agitation, Filia releases a breath she does not realize she held. Dismissing the whisper as her imagination, Filia continues towards a lit room at the end of the hallway.

Death's Squire exits the shadows quite pleased, he then continues towards the fire-lit room thinking, ' Isn't that better, beautiful? After all, too much happiness can be irritating. Unfortunately for you, my dear, I haven't had enough of your negative emotions to satiate myself yet, but I will…soon!' Filia now enters the room and closes the door, however it does not click and floats open a few centimetres, giving her stalker a view of a white, fluffy-looking bed.

He watches as her slender hand deposits a cape, her petticoats and hair ornaments on the bed, his hunger growing. Filia passes by the opening door, hair loose and dress hanging limp, to pick up the discarded items on her bed and put them away. Using her full arms to his advantage, Death's Squire teleports into the room, rematerializing behind Filia.

Feeling a sense of wrongness, the young woman turns and gasps at seeing her pursuer, "Xelloss?" she sputters.

"Yes?" he responds, very pleased with the unbridled fury rising in the blonde at seeing him. "You miss me, dragon?"

Cheeks pink in anger, Filia grips the mace hidden amongst the petticoats in her hands and swings it with a cry of "Mace-sama!" The first swing misses, but her second try connects. Always a prank ahead of logic, Xelloss grabs her by the shoulders, causing both to fall to the floor in a flurry of black, white and pink. Feeling the air rush out of him under Filia's weight, Xelloss awaits the fresh batch of her savoury rage. Filia in shock doesn't move, while Xelloss favours the blonde atop him with a squinty-eyed smirk. The pair are momentarily frozen, faces mere centimetres apart before Filia regains her wits, rolls off Xelloss, smacks him in the stomach and begins to giggle uncontrollably. Now, it's Xelloss' turn to be stunned and then he to begins to laugh for no reason…that is until Filia leans over and kisses his cheek.

She stands, chuckling quietly, and steps over the silent Mazoku. She glances at him and murmurs (in between laughs) something about 'him leaving before she did something else stupid,' while quite pleased with herself. Not only did she knock a Mazoku over, but she kissed him as well.

Xelloss slowly sits up and then stands, quietly exiting the room under Filia's 'watchful' eye, thinking to himself. His thoughts dash around his head, crying, ' This is all wrong! She's even happier than before,' he pales at the memory, 'and…and she kissed me,' he continues down the hall and skips the stairs using teleportation, 'why must I be so charming?' into the street now, 'I must find someone else to feed on.'

Distressed purple eyes open and focus on their new prey, a certain famed and fire-haired sorceress and her equally gifted entourage.

'Now this should be fun.'

La Fin

--

Thanks are extended to all the readers of the original who wormed their way through my inconsistent tenses to be very complimentary and to any newer readers who are spared the old hideous fluff to be gifted with normal fluff. Feel free to curse me for writing in psedo-present tense...I've sworn off it until the next time I'm infected by the fangirl horde.

Cheers,

Lithrath


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